


Scolding Tea

by dee-light (DraloreShimare)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4439984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraloreShimare/pseuds/dee-light
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, it's what is says on the (non-existent) tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scolding Tea

It's the last teabag John has and it doesn't have any odd identifying markers but he should've known that when Harry brought him gifts they were laced with... things like this.

He just doesn't realize it until he's poured the boiling water over the bag. That's when the stream of words starts, a quiet burble that increases in volume until its low scolding voice is clearly audible throughout the room.

"Merlin's balls!" John scowls at his mug and clatters the kettle against the stovetop.

"Young man, don't you slam that kettle about. And that cursing! Goodness, where did you ever learn your manners?"

He grimaces, yanking open a drawer and rooting for a spoon.

"Don't you start with that temper tantrum!"

"I'm not..." Bloody hell, he's making excuses to a teabag. He dunks the bag a couple more times, determined to finish making this cup even though he's not sure how it will taste. Do they use good tea in practical jokes?

John fishes the bag out, scolded for his lack of manners, his lack of care, and again for his cursing when the bag burns his fingertips just before he chucks it in the bin. In fact, its stern voice can still be heard clearly, and he refuses to sit with a cuppa if his garbage is telling him how terrible he is at keeping house. He resolutely ties the bag shut and carries it out to the bins behind the flat, relieved when he re-enters to soothing silence.

He fixes his cup, milk and just a touch of sugar, and carries it into the lounge. John sets it on the small side table, lets his chair enfold him and shakes open his copy of the Daily Prophet. Nothing much happening in the news, thankfully.

He's reading a smarting critique of the Ministry of Magic when he absently reaches for his tea, taking a sip. The tea is lovely, amazing, and he has all of five seconds to enjoy it before it scalds the tastebuds off his tongue.

"...fuck."

**Author's Note:**

> Found this in a folder on my computer, and it was in response to a typo. Hope you've enjoyed!


End file.
